“Stay there,” he said gruffly before disappearing out of the tent.
Not likely, she thought darting for some more substantial clothing. She stripped off her thin shift and replaced it with a thicker cotton undergarment. Furiously she finger-combed her unruly hair into some semblance of order before smoothing it down over her shoulders. He reappeared at this point with a basin of water which he brought round to her side. She dipped her gaze when she saw how proprietarily his gaze roamed over her.
“Thank you,” she murmured as he placed it on the chest by her side.
He turned back and drew breath as if to speak to her and suddenly it seemed imperative that she forestall whatever words he was about to utter. She surged to her feet,
“I do apologise for falling asleep last night before I had a chance to help prepare the meal,” she blurted out breathlessly. “It wasn’t my intention to shirk my duties.”
His eyebrows rose.
“You more than fulfilled your duties last night Isolde,” he answered meaningfully which made even more colour rush to her face. He placed two large hands on her shoulders holding her still. She realised she only reached his chest in height and felt ridiculously small stood next to him. “How are you this morning?” he asked in a low intimate voice which made her head swim.
“I’m fine,” she cringed avoiding his gaze. Oh my gods, could it get anymore embarrassing? Her face must be lit up like a beacon!
He cleared his throat.
“If the – er – ride becomes uncomfortable today you must tell me and we’ll stop.”
Aarrgh! Issy fought the urge to slap her hands over ears.
“Mm-hmm, I’ll do that,” she mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ears.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he told her huskily. She didn’t dare look him in the eye. Suddenly she felt his finger tilt up her chin and she had no choice. There they were, icy blue just as she remembered them, and surrounded by black spiky lashes. But then she noticed a warmth in their depths fancied she hadn’t noticed before and drew in a shaky breath.
“Don’t be shy with me Isolde,” he whispered and almost as if compelled against his will his head abruptly swooped forward and he pressed his lips to hers for a long moment. She froze feeling his warm firm lips pressed against hers. If only. If only she could pretend he was kissing her for her own sake! Always she had the horrible guilty notion it was that accursed potion that wrung any impulse out of him where she was concerned. She could see the conflicted look in his eye. As if he didn’t really want to kiss her at all! And that was when she realised how much under its influence he must still be! She could have cried. She was a wretch, a horrible scheming duplicitous wretch who had trapped him into marriage with a dumpy plain wife! No doubt his people would be horribly disappointed he had not brought some raving beauty home who would match him in looks. They were a mismatch. A terrible misalliance and everyone would wonder why the hell he’d dragged her home with him!
He drew his head back and closed his eyes briefly before reopening them.
“Put some clothes on,” his voice rumbled deep from his chest and he stepped abruptly around her before exiting the tent.
What the hells was wrong with him? Jorah started pulling down the second tent even as Geoffrey sat fastening his bed-roll. He should be fine now the marriage was was legalised. He’d been fully sated not three hours ago and here he was again with a raging hard-on and having to fight the impulse to throw his new bride down on his furs and rut her like a bitch in heat! He could feel her reticence over accepting even the chaste kiss he’d given her. Gods knew she wasn’t ready for his cock again quite so soon. Not with her poor ravaged little pussy. My pussy. He cursed horribly as he tore down the shell of the pavilion and bundled it tightly. He was going to scare her if he wasn’t careful. After making her sleep with his wolf last night too he reproached himself savagely. So much for his brilliant plan! He’d meant to wake her when he’d brought in her supper, but she’d been lay sleeping so soundly he hadn’t had the heart. Then he’d wanted to transform, to reveal all, but she’d snoozed through that too. In wolf form he’d thought to climb in with her for just a moment, but she’d been so damn accommodating in her sleep. The moment she’d closed her arms around his neck he’d melted into the biggest lapdog this side of the Sehora mountains! He was a disgrace. He didn’t even know how he’d answer if she quizzed him over possessing a wolf-hound. He had no clue. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he also sure as hells didn’t want her to run screaming from him like Alfric seemed to think she would. Not now he’d been between those glorious thighs of hers. He swallowed. Bloody hells! His ‘uncomplicated’ human wife was tying him in knots! Sleeping with her en-route to Varkash had been a mistake. Now all he wanted to do was lock himself in a room with her and mate her. Of course, there were no convenient rooms as they still had a good sixty miles to cover before they reached the town of Estragore where they were supposed to meet his brother Baris before travelling the last hundred miles to Varkash. He felt his stomach clench with dissatisfaction. He’d barely sampled his new goods and having to ration himself like this was making him edgy with need. Alfric and Geoffrey had wordlessly started packing up the tent materials with him, but he was immediately aware when Isolde emerged from his tent with her rebraided into the two longs plaits that hung down her sides again. She had a look of forced cheerfulness and determination about her as she called to Geoffrey and then started pulling out their food stores to put some breakfast together. He managed to catch her eye and she gave him a shy smile before returning to cutting slices of bread for their repast. He wondered if she was sore from his manhandling last night and was glad he’d managed not to bite her again. That might have frighted her, and he didn’t want that. Not before she understood it was territorial, a claiming and not an act of violence. He frowned moodily as he moved over to help Geoffrey with dismantling their tent. Just when he was going to explain to her about their family heritage was eluding him right now. He didn’t like feeling like he had something to hide but he had no idea of when might be the right time to breach the subject. The thought of introducing her to his brother without preparing her for his family gave him a feeling of dread. Baris was far from subtle, damn his eyes. And they would be at the Keep by tomorrow night surrounded by his entire pack. If she didn’t know before then there would be hell to pay. It wasn’t surprising that he was glowering before they’d finished packing up camp. When poor Alfric made a move to help Isolde up onto her mount, Jorah felt himself growling low in his throat. His beta backed off immediately and he boosted her up himself. Almost instinctively Isolde kept her hand on his arm as he settled her on the saddle, soothing him. She gave him a nervous smile as he finally released her with reluctance. The journey was different from the day before, in that he was tormented if the wench was ever out of his sight. He rode behind her for the second stretch as he didn’t want a crick in his neck from forever swivelling back to check on her progress. His wolf fretted and keened wanting to hear her voice for fuck’s sake! When he did allow himself to ride by her side their stilted conversation wasn’t enough. He wanted to reach out and touch her hair, to feel her skin, preferably underneath his. They hadn’t gone more than thirty miles before he realised this wasn’t going to work. He needed to be physical with her for his peace of mind. Alfric kept darting alarmed glances at him and he realised what a moody, skittish bastard he was being.
“Pull it together Jorah.” he warned in hushed tones the next time he pulled forward. “We’re only halfway there if we want to make it to Estragore by nightfall. What’s wrong?”
Jorah grit his teeth.
“Nothing. I just … need to be alone with her for a while.”
Alfric raised his brows.
“Are you serious?” He cast a look over his shoulder to where Isolde was conversing with Geoffrey behind them. “Can’t it wait?”
“No,” he growled back before scanning the horizon. That was when he saw it, a herm
it’s retreat up ahead. A small round house with a thatched roof. “I’ll take her up there.”
“Jorah, what are you doing?” demanded Alfric leaning across to seize his forearm. “She’s your wife damnit, not some common whore!”
Jorah yanked his arm back.
“She’s my wife and I’ll do with her as I please,” he snarled baring his teeth. Alfric regined in his horse in alarm. “What the hells?” he muttered in alarm. “What’s wrong with you? You’re going to scare her Jorah.”
Jorah shook him off, turning his horse to approach Isolde and Geoffrey.
“Geoffrey, you ride on ahead with Alfric for ten miles and then wait. Lady Isolde is tired so she and I are going to take a rest in the hut up yonder.”
Geoffrey’s eyes widened in surprise but he nodded and dug his heels in his horses flanks to urge her ahead as Jorah fell back alongside Isolde. She turned to look at him in some concern and Jorah wondered if she could feel the sexual intent pouring off him. Humans weren’t always the most instinctive of creatures after all. He reached across to grab Trix’s bridle and spurring her into a canter up the hill to the hovel. As soon as they reached it, he scouted around looking for its inhabitant but he was nowhere to be seen, nor was a fire lit. He threw down a purse of silver as payment for their occupancy and then approached Isolde’s horse reaching his arms up to her. Her eyes widened but she slithered down into his arms obligingly earning an approving growl from his inner-beast.
She almost stumbled as he pulled her inside the rough-hewn hut. Was he really going to take her in a hermit’s hovel? He reasoned with his base self. The wolf snarled. Hells yes he was. He cast about wildly for a surface other than the bed of hessian sacks in the corner. For all he knew it was crawling with lice. He was desperate, absolutely desperate to just sink inside of her and know a moment’s blessed peace. The need was fierce, strong and all-consuming. This made no sense! They were not fully mated. He’d taken her female essence into himself. He’d taken her blood. But she had only taken his spit he reasoned, when he’d healed her wound. And his seed. There had not been a three fold sharing on both parts. She was going to take his seed again though, he though with a growl. And now. He couldn’t wait to give it to her. Not one moment longer. He considered pushing her down onto the floor onto her hands and knees but the rushes looked none too clean and she was his wife after all, not some slut. He dragged a chair into the centre of the room and then jerked her back onto her feet when she went to sit on it.
“No, kneel,” he told her. “Rest your elbows on the chair seat.” He turned it to the side and urged her down. Issy’s eyes were wide with questions but he thanked the gods when instead of voicing them she just sank down and did as she was told. There was his good little wife. Gods he loved it when she did his bidding sweetly and unquestioningly.
“Isolde,” he whispered huskily as he fell to his knees behind her and started hitching up her skirts.
She looked back over her shoulder at him in alarm, her lips trembling.
“My Lord….” She whimpered.
“Shhhh, love. It’ll be fine.” His hands were shaking as he stripped her of her undergarments and started stroking and fondling her plump thighs and behind. “Damn you’re perfect,” he told her squeezing her pale creamy flesh. “I want you so badly. I need to be inside you, do you understand?”
“Is it … can you still smell the perfume?” she asked with a slight hitch to her voice.
“Not from here. At least, not strongly.” he said thickly. “But if I were to take you from the front… then yes.”
His hands slipped around the front and in between her legs.
“Gods! You’re wet for me, Isolde,” he hissed his fingers slipping between her moist folds.
“Oh!” she bit her lip. “Jorah!”
He hesitated feeling a strong emotion when she groaned his name. He wanted to hear her say it when he was deep inside her sex, moving inside her, exploding inside her. He wanted that more than anything. He groaned softly. Was he losing his mind? Was this a mating heat? And if so, why had he gone into it with this small human female who knew nothing about his kind? However you looked at it, it didn’t make any sense. He slid a finger into her moist heat and up inside her.
“Jorah!”
She nearly reared up off the seat. He felt the sweat bead on his brow. Gods, she was tight. Too tight for him to take her like a rutting beast in a filthy shack on her knees. Gods damnit! He groaned and lowered his forehead to her back, resting it there while he prayed for the strength to let her get up. His wolf was clamouring like a mother fucker for him to mount her. He bit back a low snarl of frustration.
“W-what’s wrong?” she asked softly.
She kept very still almost as if she knew how close he was to snapping and going primal on her.
“What can I do?” she asked simply. “Tell me what to do.”
“Nothing,” he bit out. “Just let me rein it in. Just stay still and don’t make any sudden moves.”
“No I mean…” she hesitated. “Like you did for me… On our wedding night.”
He froze.
“Can I do that for you.. somehow? To give you relief?”
He swallowed.
“Are you saying …? You’ll take me in your mouth?” His voice sounded raspy even to his own ears.
She turned her head too quickly to look back at him and the wolf snarled. Steady!
“Yes,” she said sweetly. So fucking sweetly he almost came in his pants.
“I want to.” She licked her lips, not in a tease but because her lips were dry. Didn’t matter, even if she yawned he felt it like a prick tease. He made a strangled sound in his throat.
“Alfric was right, I should never have dragged you in here,” he cast his eyes about the gloom of the hut.
“It’s not your fault, it’s my fault.” She said cryptically. If he hadn’t been thinking with his dick right then he might have questioned what she meant. She pushed back against him and he resisted, pushing back. “If you … If you sit on the chair…” she said breathlessly. “I’ll stay here, on my knees.”
“The floor’s filthy Isolde,” he groaned.
“My knees are already dirty,” she pointed out giving him a shove. “The chair.” She pushed him again and he rose unsteadily to his feet. Seeing her down on her knees so subservient made him even harder. I am one twisted bastard, he groaned to himself. Since when had he been into subjugating women? He unlaced his crotch, his fingers trembling and pulled his swollen cock free from the confines of his leather trews sinking down onto the chair. He felt her breath on his dick and squeezed his eyes shut with a prayer for control as she wrapped her hands around him. Lowering her head she licked over the tip with her little pink tongue. He swore horribly, his cock leaping in her grasp.
“Isolde, I’m sorry,” he gasped out. “But I can’t take it. I just can’t take anymore.”
“Tell me what to do!”
“Just – fucking suck me woman!”
Her eyes went wide, but mercifully she obeyed and lent forward taking him as far into her mouth as she could. The feel of her warm mouth and her soft hands squeezing him tore a deep groan from his chest as he flung his head back and clutched at the chair seat. He really tried to keep from wrapping one hand around her braids but couldn’t hold back and grabbed her by the hair anyway dragging her open mouth further down onto his furious cock. “Breathe through your nose,” he ground out and felt her relax as she took his advice with a relieved murmur around his dick. Unfortunately the sensation of vibration added to his almost mind-numbing pleasure and he hissed another few curse words as she took him deeper.
“Oh fuck yeah,” he moaned flinging back his head again. “Move your hands up and down my shaft.” He demanded thrusting his hips up into her grasp. She complied. “Harder. Suck me harder Issy. Like you mean it. Like you want my cum.” He had to bite his lip when she obeyed, so hard he could taste his own blood. He couldn’t stave it off much longer he realised as he
heard his harsh groans filling the hut, His grip on her hair urging her up and down on his cock, showing her the rhythm he wanted. The rhythm he needed to shoot deep into her willing mouth. He thrust up once, twice, three times and then he exploded with a bellow deep from his chest.
“Drink me,” he urged her hoarsely. “Swallow it.”
He felt her stiffen with shock and then the almost painful pause she gave before he felt her first deep swallow of his cum. He felt it like a physical relief as he emptied himself into her mouth. “Swallow it all,” he gasped out hoarsely, his fingers twisting in the nape of her hair to massage her neck and show his pleasure with her actions. Since he couldn’t show it with words he ran his hands over her tense shoulders and neck, kneading and stroking her as she swallowed the never ending ribbons of seed he was releasing for her. The relief was almost overwhelming. The sweet blessed relief of having her take it all. His wolf was keening with pleasure. He felt the satisfaction spread through him like a warm sweet balm to his soul. What the hells was wrong with him? He wondered in some deep recess of his mind. He’d never been this dependent on a woman for his pleasure. For his peace of mind. Nay for his sanity. But he shoved the thoughts back down. Right at this moment, he really didn’t give a fuck. All he needed was Isolde and her sweet, sweet mouth.
When they emerged from the hut five minutes later he headed straight for the well and fetched a bucket of water to wash her knees clean. She sat obediently on a low stone wall as he lowered her skirts again and on impulse pinched her chin. Gods bless her, she gave him a smile at this that went straight to his chest which contracted painfully. She should be calling him out on being a completely unreasonable bastard. He deserved no less for his ill usage of her. But she took the hand he held down to her and let him boost her up into her horse saddle without a single reproach. At least now he could see straight he told himself as justification for his actions as he urged his horse Warrior forward into a gallop to catch up with the others. When they reached Alfric and Geoffrey they wordlessly fell in with each other. Alfric had his lips pressed tightly together and wouldn’t speak to him although he darted a few glances at Isolde to check she was unharmed. After a few glances he turned his burning gaze to Jorah full of reproach before looking away. He realised his beta’s sense of smell would tell him what had transpired in the hut but what the hell business it was of Alfric’s he did not know he told himself with a glower.
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